


Crustacean Catastrophe

by JazzRaft



Series: kitchen disasters [8]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: F/M, First Dates, Fluff, Humor, Love/Hate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-29 15:14:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20084317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JazzRaft/pseuds/JazzRaft
Summary: Ravus may have lacked significant romantic experience in his life, but even he knew that half a seizure and a trip to the hospital was not how a first date was supposed to end.





	Crustacean Catastrophe

**Author's Note:**

> An anonymous [prompt request](https://jazzraft.tumblr.com/post/186660225287/which-ever-ship-you-want-with-im-allergic-to) from a list of [kitchen disasters](https://jazzraft.tumblr.com/post/186452779569/kitchen-disasters).

“I’m allergic to karlabos, you idiot!”

It seemed only fitting that Aranea’s last words before her throat closed up, possibly forever, was an insult against Ravus’s intelligence. If she had to go out, she’d go out by getting the last jab in. She wouldn’t want it any other way. There was a sick, sadistic sort of poetry to that, he supposed.

Fortunately, it was not the last insult he would ever have to endure by Aranea Highwind after all. And maybe he was having an allergic reaction himself because Ravus was shocked when the first thing he felt in response to that thought, was not revulsion, but _relief_.

The Imperial medics had arrived with haste. Ravus had been perfectly calm over the coms, articulating as many curses as he could get away with as Commander to expedite the process. The team that arrived was a quaking group of doctors with the fear of the Astrals put into them. Good. They were going to need it if they wanted to both appease the Commander’s orders and save the Commodore’s life – as well as survive whatever barbs she could wheeze out at them along the way to the medical wing.

Fear ended up being a productive motivator, because they quickly and efficiently got Aranea stable again without her seizing up and dying along the way – and with minimal collateral damage from the kicking and cursing and threats to claw out their eyes from beyond the grave if she didn’t make it.

Now, Ravus may have lacked significant romantic experience in his life, but even he knew that this was _not_ typically how a date was supposed to end.

Not that they would ever call it “a date.” That would have implied that they had some sort of _feelings_ for each other; some sort of social attachment that didn’t adhere to their warped rules of friendly resentment. No, no, raking through scouting reports in civvies stained with old coffee stains did not a romantic evening make. Not even when Ravus had a bottle of red and some seafood sent up from the kitchens. He was just hungry. And needed liquid incentive to survive the rest of the night with his work-proximity nemesis.

It _wasn’t_ a date. That’d be foolish. They weren’t _children _(well, Ravus wasn’t; Aranea, he wasn’t so sure). The Astrals themselves were on his side here, because if a rush to the medical wing wasn’t a sign that this _was not _a date, he didn’t know what was.

Nevertheless, it didn’t explain why he couldn’t seem to stop himself from pacing the waiting lobby for hours when he _should_ go back and finish signing off the reports they’d been working on. There were better uses of his time than intimidating every harried young nurse that tried to hurry past him with their heads turned down into telling him _when the hell he could see her._ He was going to have a hefty collection of resignation papers on his desk by the morning, he could just feel it.

When they finally let him into the exam room, it was following the coattails of a jittering, anemic-looking man that squeaked every time he was asked a question and deflated like a balloon once he was allowed the mercy of being dismissed. The first thing Aranea said to him once they were alone again was about what Ravus expected.

“Came to finish me off, Commander?”

Having a near-death experience didn’t affect Aranea Highwind the same way as it would any other human being on the face of Eos. It was just another day in her life, another inconvenient trifle she had to sit and wait through. Her arms were crossed and her fingers drumming impatiently for a release form as she sat in the sterile bed – same clothes, no scrubs; Ravus could already imagine how that conversation with the attendant went.

“If you were going to gag up dinner and die, you could have at least warned me,” Ravus sighed, setting himself down in a chair next to her.

“Pardon my manners, Your Not-Highness. I’ll be sure to fill out a consent form for the next time you want to kill me.”

She was smiling, of course, because for some strange reason an attempt on her life – accidental or otherwise – was more hilarious to her than terrifying. If anything – and he would never admit this, not even if he was tortured for it – Ravus was more scared for her than she was.

“If I had intended to kill you, I at least would have given you the courtesy of a more elegant demise,” he said.

“Aw, you sure know how to sweet-talk a girl.”

He probably should have let her die. Death by high-grade seafood wouldn’t have been a horrible way to go, all things considered. She’d said so herself before she realized what was it was, that it was one of the nicer things she’d ever tasted from the Emperor’s kitchens. Mercenaries didn’t have the same privileges as political hostages when it came to room service. The least he could do was reap the benefits. _Never doing that again_, he thought.

“As far as first dates go, you’ll probably be surprised to hear that’s not the worst way I’ve had one end,” she snickered. “And, hey, if they’re all about getting to know each other, well, now you know me a hell of a lot better, huh?”

Ravus wracked his brain for a way to rationalize what she’d just said. _It was not a date!_ And even if it was, Ravus would not have let _that_ be the first one. He could do so much better! It was an insult to his upbringing to suggest that could have been their first date – and the more he thought of it, that was probably exactly what she meant by it.

She slid a wicked smirk his way once she felt him glaring at her. She’d obviously gotten the reaction she was hoping for. He couldn’t even really be mad. It was the least he deserved for putting her in the hospital. Fair was fair, and well, if she felt vindicated by that statement, then he had to concede.

At least that it was a date. Not that it was a first one.

“It was a training exercise,” he said. “Not a first date. Our first real date will begin and end far less dramatically.”

“And here I was, feeling all flattered that you went out of your way to kill me just to say ‘I like you.’”

“I went out of my way to kill you just to ask you on a real date.”

Aranea’s face brightened, thrilled to have driven him to this conclusion. He owed her now and they both knew it, and she was fully prepared to capitalize on it. Such was the nature of their day-in-day-out tug-of-war.

“Alright, Commander. Name the time and place.”

“Perhaps the Leville at Altissia. I hear they serve a fine vintage to pair with their famous karlabos carbonara.”

“He likes me,” she drawled, rolling her eyes with a grin. “He really, really likes me.”

**Author's Note:**

> I will sink alone with the splinters of this ship if I must! *salutes*


End file.
